


The Artificial Picnic

by Thimblerig



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: #HugsForTasha, (honestly kinda fluffy?), (in the sense of discussing the aftermath), Asexual Character, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e03 The Naked Now, F/M, Fic & Podfic, Gen, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Picnics, Podfic, Podfic Length: 0-10 Minutes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25439032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thimblerig/pseuds/Thimblerig
Summary: Can you eat?" Tasha blurted out.In which things that should have been talked out, are talked out, and hardboiled eggs are both, A Metaphor, and quite tasty.
Relationships: Data & Tasha Yar, Data/Tasha Yar
Comments: 34
Kudos: 35
Collections: Star Trek Fandom Potluck Collection





	The Artificial Picnic

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Click [here](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1qn0EY57Xweg7xLCtfVy76nO3sI7iJVg8/view?usp=drivesdk) to stream or download :-) 

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Format: MP3  
Length: 10:35  
Size: 8.76 MB

The green lawn stretched out over the Presidio park, lit by the clear yellow light of early afternoon. A breeze stirred on the back of Tasha’s neck as she eyed the scene critically. There was something just a little off about the scenery in the distance - the way the light fell on the waters of the bay, maybe, or the perspective of the Golden Gate bridge. And it did not at all smell right, some kind of generic essence of grassiness, instead of the shading of flower smell from the nearby rose-gardens, the tang of ozone that hung over all the cities where starships bred.

Even so, something about the scene had her shoulder-blades sliding down her spine, her breathing slowing despite herself.

“When I first came to Earth,” she said aloud, “I was still a minor by Federation standards, so they put me with a host family and every Sunday we’d come out here. Boiled eggs with a packet of salt, tea made the old-fashioned way and kept hot in a vacuum flask, the whole…”

“Malarkey?” asked Data curiously.

Tasha tasted the word on her tongue and nodded decisively. “Malarkey, yes.” She plumped down on the tartan blanket, elbows and knees a-gangle. It was hot under the sun, but she had never wanted, back when she was a child, to sit under the trees - too much blocking the view, too many shadows, even dappled green ones. Better to perch under the bowl of the sky and stare up at the garish sun, if she had to.

Data sat down beside her, his behavioural algorithms sorting through his perceived situation and settling at last on the 'criss-cross applesauce' posture, knees splayed out and his hands settled upon them.

“Can you eat?” Tasha blurted out.

His yellow eyes watched her coolly, calmly. Gently, it might be said. “I can go through the motions of chewing and swallowing food,” he said, “but I achieve no sustenance or savour from the food.”

“Then why…?”

Data’s eyelids flickered in one definite motion. “Eating is an important social ritual in many cultures,” he said mildly. “I would hazard to guess that my creator desired for me to, ‘fit in’.”

“But you… don’t like it.”

“I do not ‘like’ or ‘dislike’ such things.” He hesitated, searching for words in his copious databank. “I… understand the value of social rituals. I wish to -”

“Fit in.”

“If you wish to eat from your picnic basket,” Data said, “I would be glad to keep you company.”

Tasha ducked her head, and touched the wicker side of the basket but pulled her hand back to where she could twist her fingers in the fringe of the blanket. “Actually what I wanted was to talk to you about last month,” she mumbled.

Data waited politely.

“About… _that.”_

Eyebrows raised curiously, Data said, “The _Enterprise_ has undertaken many operations and scientific projects over the last four weeks. Can you be more specific?”

“About the, the polywater. Ah… _that._ And afterwards, when I told you it never happened.” Tasha blew out her breath, so gustily her fringe fluttered away from her eyes. Eyes still down she spoke in a rapid monotone. “It was wrong of me. I took advantage of you and then told you not to talk about it. Security Officers mustn’t ever abuse their status and if you want to bring me up on charges I have the form all filled out. All you have to do is sign.” She swallowed hard.

“Tasha,” the android said, quietly, calmly. Perhaps gently. “Tasha, your decision-making capability was impaired through non-consensual intoxication.”

“But still, I -”

“Mine was not.”

“You want _me_ to bring _you_ up on charges?” Her mouth twisted into a savage grin. “No. You didn’t know I was off my head.”

“And yet,” the android said calmly, “I could have been more cautious when you made an unexpected request. I could have paid more attention to the surrounding context.”

“Please,” she said, throat tight. “Please don’t make yourself feel guilty about this.”

“If it pleases you.”

“Did you even, er, enjoy it? Or was it like… eating a hardboiled egg?”

“I do not process pleasure in the way that humans do, but yes, Tasha, I did. You are aesthetically pleasing. I had the opportunity to practice several techniques I have hitherto only known theoretically. My basic algorithms encourage me to engage in social behaviour. And -”

Data paused, eyes distant.

“You were ‘fitting in,’” Tasha mused, lifting her eyes to study his face.

“I -” The android’s chin tilted suddenly to the side.

Tasha blew air through her nose. “So if anyone on the ship asked you to... practice techniques of social behaviour with them would you just, agree, because that’s what you’re programmed to do, be agreeable, that’s... I -”

“No, Tasha.”

She waited.

“I agreed because it was you. And because you were in pain.” Tasha stopped breathing, still under the hot sunlight, the three-minute loop of birdsong, the android’s gaze. Then she erupted to her feet.

Data followed her upwards, standing still and poised on the blanket as the Security Chief stalked around him like a young lioness. “Would you like to talk about it?” he asked quietly.

“I’ve had other lovers,” Tasha said rapidly. “I’ve had plenty. It’s all good fun, mostly other guys in Security - people I like to wrestle with, y’know? I like it hot and sweaty, with someone I can test my strength on, that’s what I _like,_ Data.”

“Thank you for trusting me with that information,” Data said.

“I’m a fighter.”

“You are very good at fighting,” he told her honestly, turning his head to follow her circle.

“And then you were there and it was like something was dredging up out of my soul and it’s not something I ever ask for and I’m not comfortable with people knowing I might… want that.”

“If you wish, I can remove all reference to our sexual encounter from my memor-”

 _“No,”_ she said, harsh and ragged.

Data waited.

“I want to be clear,” Tasha said, blue eyes very fierce under the corn-tassel fringe of her hair, “the duty of a Starfleet officer, that’s one thing. When we’re on the job I do my duty as best I can and I hope that you do the same. When we’re talking social time? I like your company. I like it _more_ when you’re doing things that make you happy.”  
  
“I am an android, and I do not feel happiness.”

“Things that give you sustenance and savour, then. Don’t ever choke down an egg just because you think it’s expected, okay?”

“Okay,” Data said, matching her eyes. She stepped in close, and put her callused hands on either side of his face, touching the synthetic skin very gently. She pursed her mouth, glared at him, then nodded once briefly and stepped back.

“Tasha?” Data said.

“Yeah?”

“I would enjoy keeping you company while you eat your picnic lunch.”

She blew air through her nose, and nodded.

They sat on the blanket for forty-five minutes, in the yellow, bright, artificial light, watching the sailboats and discussing their rigging as Tasha ate apples, cheese on Turkish bread, and hard-boiled eggs peeled and dipped in salt. She brushed away crumbs and folded the wrappings carefully before putting them back in the basket. Looking out over the grass, she said, “Um. Data. Your repertoire of techniques.”

Data cocked his head.

“How do you feel about doing that last one again?”

“I would like that.”

He stretched himself out on the blanket, pillowing his head with one hand. Tasha settled herself against his side, wrapping her arm across the android’s torso. Data moved his free hand into position and set his torso vibrating at an optimum rhythm. As Tasha drifted into sleep, he gently stroked her back.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Programs Used: Audio Evolution (Mobile); Logopit Plus; Music Editor
> 
> Cover: Pixabay stock image
> 
> Music/FX:
> 
> “Bird Whistling, Robin, Single, 13” by InspectorJ - https://freesound.org/people/InspectorJ/sounds/456440/ (CC BY 3.0)  
> “Bird Whistling, Single, Robin, A” by InspectorJ - https://freesound.org/people/InspectorJ/sounds/416529/ (CC BY 3.0)  
>   
> 


End file.
